


Waking

by Mouibon



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 100 percent unedited, M/M, Satori is asleep for all of this lol, Ushiwaka loves observing Satori, and thinking about Satori, day in the life, simple fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22139953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouibon/pseuds/Mouibon
Summary: Ushijima isn’t planning to be late for his morning run, but Satori certainly had the talent of distracting him.OrThe author’s fic for Ushiten day.
Relationships: Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 9
Kudos: 234
Collections: Haikyuu!!





	Waking

**Author's Note:**

> I made this when I was planning to not do anything for Ushiten day. Then I got an idea and had to write it. Hope you like it!

At exactly six in the morning, Ushijima Wakatoshi has to wake up and go take a run.

And so that explains why he almost breaks the alarm clock from sheer strength—not intentionally, mind you—pressing the snooze button. He takes a moment to blink the sleep away from his eyes, rub some eye crust from the corners. He rolls his shoulders, and takes a moment to lay in bed.

And the first thing he thinks is, ‘ _Is Satori comfortable against my arm?’_

Satori has a ridiculous grip, like that of professional wrestlers and the like, on Ushijima. And yet it doesn’t hurt. And Ushijima has a feeling that, even if it did hurt, he wouldn’t mind.

Little by little, he picks at Satori’s fingers, making sure to be gentle, as to not wake him up. There is grumbling, and Ushijima feels sorry that he has to leave him so early in the morning. But there are things to be done, and Ushijima needs to make sure his body is at its best, for the next volleyball season.

Satori understands these sorts of things. While most did not understand his passion—his one, very specific passion—Satori was always there at every game. He was there when Ushijima wanted to talk about strategies and teammates, with a easy grin and a “Wow, you’re pretty awesome, aren’t you?” And he was there, proud, whenever Ushijima won anything, though Ushijima knows he doesn’t like volleyball much anymore.

And in return, Ushijima ‘deals with’ Satori’s love for art, anime, and manga. He doesn’t know why Satori words it as ‘deals with’. It isn’t annoying to talk about the interests of the person he loves, perhaps more than any words can say.

(Satori has issues. Ushijima knows that. His childhood was rough, for lack of better words. And, while Ushijima isn’t a professional, Ushijima is determined to make sure Satori knows he is valid, and loved.)

Ushijima thinks about these sorts of things as he stares at Satori’s face, with streaks of sunlight passing across it in waves. Peaceful. Happy. And while it is a nice sight—Satori is beautiful in any angle or facial expression—Ushijima prefers it to be animated. He is used to that face contorting into a million expressions in the span of a minute, showing every single way a person can look happy. As soon as Ushijima thinks he has seen every way Satori could look happy, Satori surprises him again.

It is utterly fascinating.

Satori’s hair isn’t in its gelled form. It is scraggly, long, and an utter mess, like a mop of red seaweed. Buried under blankets, he seems to be trying to get the warmth from Ushijima back. And yet blankets seem to be no competitor for skin, as an asleep Satori seems to resign himself to the fact he would never be warm again, a disgruntled face being on his face instead of the peaceful one.

Ushijima should probably stop watching.

(A voice in his head tells him to change. It is now five fifty. Ten minutes to change.)

He rises up. Props his legs over the edge of the bed. The bedside table has a couple of light novels, as well as some discarded thumbnails for manga pages. All Satori’s. It is mixed in with Ushijima’s glasses and a potted Echeveria plant. It would be messy, but it feels like home, so it doesn’t matter.

He takes one more glance at Satori. At the red mop of hair, at the sharp angles of his face, at the face of his beloved. His lover. His boyfriend. Whatever the title was, all that Ushijima knows is that he loves this man.

Satori’s face is, admittedly, strange looking in comparison to any person Ushijima has seen. The great distance between his eyebrows and his eyes, the sharp nose and chin, and the stretched skin made from high cheekbones weren’t things one sees everyday. But it isn’t bad. This is the same face that smiled that smile that never failed to give Ushijima warmth, and the same face that was nice to cradle. And Satori’s face fit him: unique, and so unapologetically him.

The alarm clock rings, and Ushijima turns it off this time, instead of hitting snooze. The clock says six am.

Inconvenient. He’ll have to start later than usual.

He runs a hand through Satori’s hair. Then goes to change. Even if he cannot stay—and he would like to observe Satori, believe him—he will get a call from Satori on his run.

He changes. Gives a forehead kiss. And goes to run.


End file.
